Chapter 27
AVERY
I didn’t think I’d ever had more fun on the ice than I did that afternoon. Coach would’ve been rolling his eyes so much he’d have given himself a monster headache, but everyone had a blast.
After convincing myself the guys would handle me with kid gloves or resent me, I couldn’t even describe the relief that came from skating, screwing off, and laughing so much my face hurt.
They didn’t treat me any differently. They didn’t side-eye me or make backhanded remarks about keeping things going while I got myself together.
Which… that wasn’t how any of them were, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I’d just created this narrative in my head that they’d all hate me or pity me.
Created this narrative in my head? Good God, I’ve been going to therapy too long.
I was a little disappointed when our informal practice ended. It had been so much fun, I wasn’t ready for it to be over.
That disappointment was short-lived, though.
“We’re gonna do this again, right?” Eminem asked. “When do you guys have the ice again?”
Peyton looked up from taking off his shinpads. “When do you want to do this?” He jerked his chin toward the door. “I can talk to the rink before we leave and nail down a time.”
Just like that, everyone was debating when to schedule something. Texts went out to some of the guys who hadn’t been able to come today. The team was leaving for a four-game road trip after tomorrow night’s game, but there were some days after they came back that would work for everyone.
“What about you, Calds?” Baddy turned to me and gestured with his phone. “What’s your schedule like?”
I swallowed. “Uh. I usually have—” I hesitated. Even though these men all knew what I was doing these days, I felt weird saying it out loud. “My appointments are usually over by about noon.”
He nodded sharply. “Okay, so let’s see if the rink is available on Tuesday and Thursday at like two?”
I watched the continued conversation, still a little dazed that they were doing this. Then again, we were all rink rats, so it didn’t take much arm-twisting to get us to come skate. So… that was probably all it was.
Except as we were all heading out to our cars afterward, Eminem suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into a fierce hug.
“It was good to skate with you, man.” He slapped my back. “Been worried about you.”
I froze for a second before returning his embrace. “Thanks for coming.” As he released me, I realized some of the other guys were watching us. “Thanks to all of you. This was really great.”
“You know we got you, Calds.” Baddy slung an arm around my shoulders. “And who’s gonna miss a chance to knock you into the boards without getting in trouble?”
I laughed and gave him a shove. “Too bad you’re too slow to get that chance, right?”
“I’m not too slow!” He scoffed.
“No, but you were taking a nap at the bench when—”
“Oh, fuck you,” he muttered as the rest of the guys laughed. “Next time we’ll dump you in the bench.”
“No,” Mix said with a smirk. “It’s way more fun to toss you back there.”
The banter went on like that for a minute or two, and then the guys continued toward their cars. I leaned against mine as I watched them go.
Then I turned to Peyton, who’d lingered. “You were right. I didn’t think they’d want to see me, but…” I shook my head.
He smiled, which made me warm all over. “Sometimes you just have to see it to believe it.” Gesturing at his car, he added, “You want to grab something to eat?”
Now that he mentioned it, I was starving. Not surprising after a satisfying workout like that. “Sure. Yeah. Do you, um, do you want to come back to my place? I don’t cook as well as you do, but I can order something.”
Fuck me, that smile.
“Sure. Meet you there?”
“Sounds great.”
An hour or so later, we were lounging in my living room with some Thai food.
“Holy shit,” Peyton said after a few bites. “Is this place always this good?”
“Every time. I can’t even eat crab rangoon anywhere else anymore.”
“I don’t blame you. Damn. I thought the place near my house had good pad Thai, but this?” He whistled and shook his head. “Seriously good.”
“Mmhmm. There’s an Asian fusion place closer to you that does Thai really well, too. But I usually get Ph? there, so…” I shrugged. “I haven’t had their Thai in a while.”
“Yeah?” He cocked a brow. “So they have good Vietnamese?”
I nodded. “Mix and Baddy say their sushi is some of the best, too. I swear they can each blow like a hundred bucks apiece on sushi at that place, and it’s not that expensive.”
Peyton laughed. “I probably could too, if it’s that good. But if they’ve got good Ph?…”
“Best I’ve had since I came to Pittsburgh.”
“Well then.” He nodded sharply. “Sold. I want to try it!”
I grinned. “When the team’s back in town, we should go. I won’t have to ask any of the other guys twice.”
“Perfect.”
The conversation fell into a comfortable lull as we continued eating. Truthfully, I was kicking myself for suggesting we get the rest of the guys to come with us to that place. I wanted to go there with Peyton. Just Peyton.
Buuut that felt a little too much like a date.
Two dudes could go out to dinner without it being a date, even if they were both queer, but he and I were on some weird ground.
We’d both admitted to some mutual interest, and even though I was still convinced I had blown any chance I ever had with him, I wanted to tread carefully.
Both on that off chance I still had a shot with him, and also because I liked this friendship we’d slipped into since I’d started getting my shit together.
I didn’t want to ruin either of those things.
So… we’d go to the restaurant as a group. Keep things relaxed. Pretend I had more of a shot with Peyton than Vegas had of ever making it past the first round of the playoffs. Better to have him as a friend than a teammate who wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.
After a while, Peyton broke the silence. “So, um…” He sipped his drink. “Feel free to tell me if it’s none of my business. But… you’re doing good these days? I mean, the assistance program and all—is it helping?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s been hard. Some of my therapy sessions lately have been rough. But… I get through it.” I loaded some risotto onto my fork. “Probably a lot of hard things I needed to hear. And say.”
“Yeah?”
I took a bite of my pad Thai. After a sip of water, I explained some of what Shannon had told me recently about grief, and how it was especially difficult for men in this society.
“We’re not supposed to be emotional. And we’re sure as shit not supposed to be this emotional about someone who isn’t family or a partner, you know?
So I guess I just…” I sighed. “I guess I just didn’t know how to be as fucked up over Leif as I am. ”
I cringed—God, that sounded so pathetic.
But Peyton was nodding as I spoke. “I’ve heard that. It’s all stupid anyway—how men are and aren’t allowed to have feelings, never mind show them. But yeah, now that you mention it—I’ve never imagined trying to handle losing a friend.”
“I didn’t either. I always kind of figured with stuff like this, you just do it, you know? Grief is what it is. But it turns out if you put up enough mental walls…” I laughed bitterly. “It’s possible to fuck up grieving.”
“You’re not fucking it up,” Peyton said softly. “You’ve just never had to do this before.”
“There is that. This isn’t the first time in my life that someone’s died. Just… the first time it’s been someone I was this close to.”
He winced. “I can’t even imagine how hard that is.”
“You don’t want to,” I whispered, shivering as some of those awful emotions tried to claw their way to the surface. Shifting in my seat, I stared down at my food. “Things like today, though—it helps. A lot. Being around the guys—I think I needed that more than I realized.”
“I bet,” he said softly. “I think it was good for them, too. For all of us.”
I met his gaze again. “You do?”
He nodded. “The guys really are pulling for you. They’ve been worried about you. Seeing you on your feet, skating, being yourself?” Another nod. “Yeah, I think that’s good for all of us.”
I had no idea what to say to that.
“In fact…” He hesitated.
I lifted my gaze to meet his.
Peyton chewed his lip, then took a deep breath.
“Come to tomorrow night’s game. We’re about to hit the road for a few games, so it’ll be good for the team—really good for them—to see you there before we go.
It’ll be good for morale.” He paused, brow pinching.
“And I’m no expert, but I bet it’ll be good for you, too. ”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. He’d been honest with me—sometimes brutally honest—from the start. He wouldn’t blow smoke up my ass now. That just didn’t seem like him.
I fidgeted. “You don’t think it’ll be a distraction? I don’t want to throw the guys off right before—”
“Not at all.” He sounded confident. “Trust me. It’ll be a good morale boost.” He paused. “And not just for the team.”
I couldn’t explain the rush of warmth. Maybe because he saw right through me and knew that visit would be good for me? Or maybe because I thought he might be referring to himself? Both?
Either way, I couldn’t say no. I’d been dreading the first time I saw my teammates playing without me, but now…
“All right.” I smiled. “I’ll be there.”
I had some second thoughts about going to the game, but Peyton was holding me to it. In fact, I’d offered to drive him to the arena since he and the team were heading to the airport right after the game. So now I couldn’t bail.
I mean, I could. I knew he’d let me off the hook without any protest, and it wasn’t that big of a deal for someone to drive himself on a travel night. But I wouldn’t let myself out of it now, so… whatever.